The Rag and The Pint
by MendaciousMinx
Summary: Ragetti was an orphaned thief when Sparrow found him and deemed him a worthy pirate. He was thrown into a world full of only two things: survival, and Pintel. RagettiPintel slash.


A/N: I only recently got wind of this pairing, and I just had to get my toes wet. Neither Ragetti nor Pintel is extremely attractive, but that's part of what makes the couple charming--it has no sex appeal, just affection. But enough of my sap. You didn't come here for my sap. You came for theirs.

* * *

I met him a long time ago. Then again, I do not measure time in years--I measure time in ports. In battles. It has been many, many battles since I met Pintel. It was many, many battles ago that fate took me to her breast.

I was not always a pirate, which is a silly thing to say come to think of it. No one is born a pirate. No one is born thinking they will one day pillage and murder to survive. At any rate, I was at first a carpenter's son. I made things--it was my passion, my joy and, for a long time, my one and only love. But childhood never lasts, and the sickness came. Young and resilient, I survived my bout of fever. My parents were not so lucky. Within a week of infection my mother was dead, and my father lost hope. He weakened against the disease, and disease is one of those rare foes which takes no prisoners.

Alone and bereft, thievery was my only option.

I tried for a while to rob only those who deserved it or could spare their money; the rich or corrupt, usually synonymous terms. It was in this way that I made my bitter road to Tortouga, the thief's paradise, the criminal's Eden, the place a hundred ne'er-do-wells can fondly call home. I was sixteen, too young for most of its entertainment, and it was a heaven in which I took little pleasure.

Until, that is, I was approached by a man who was, by far, the strangest creature across which I had come in all of my short life. He called himself Captain Jack Sparrow, and told me of a ship moored in the harbor. She was the Black Pearl, he said, and the prettiest trinket he had ever owned.

"I saw you yesterday," he said. "You stole seven purses in record time, as I counted, but with your speed it might've been more. I could use skill like that when I go to port for resupplying. What say you?"

I was taken aback. "I ain't proud of what I do, sir. It's the only way to make my living, and anyone who thinks I'm worthwhile 'cause of it is daft as daisies."

"Nonsense," he replied shortly. "I admire you for it. Are you calling me a daisy?"

I looked him up and down. He was anything but! Lean and muscular, with a stubborn chin and a mischievous glint to his eye. I shook my head fiercely.

"We sail noon tomorrow. The tide waits for no one, savvy?" And then he was gone.

When I arrived at the dock, I found I was not alone. Sparrow had perused Tortouga in its entirety, seeking out all manner of unfavorable characters. I reserved judgment, however--from the looks I was getting, they didn't think much of me, either.

Someone slammed into my shoulder, and I went sprawling to the ground. "Watch it!" bellowed a voice from above, and I looked up to see a large fellow silhouetted against the sun.

"You watch it, you great galumphing bastard," snapped someone else, coming to stand between me and the silhouette.

"You're too short to be making demands like that, pup!" the first man snarled.

"The bigger you are, the bigger you splash."

The argument got no chance to escalate. The first mate, a scarred and sneering man named Barbossa, was shouting for us to form up in a line for Sparrow's scrutiny. We did as we were told. The captain walked up and down our line, gazing at us with a stern expression, before turning to Barbossa.

"Tell me, mate, what exactly am I doing?"

Barbossa blinked. "Why, scrutinizing them, of course! It's traditional to make sure they're a fit crew!"

Sparrow crossed his arms. "That's daft. I picked them yesterday on my own, I know they're fit. Get them onto the ship."

The first mate paused momentarily, before bellowing, "Get your filthy corpses onto the ship! Hop to, you insolent curs!"

Again we did as we were told, only barely acknowledging the brief argument between Barbossa and Sparrow over whether or not such derogatory terms were really necessary.

We set sail shortly after that, and soon we were out of the harbor. A stiff wind was blowing, so we were kept busy through the day, but then dusk fell and most of us retired to the crew's quarters.

I was roused late in the night for my watch, and dragged a blanket up to the deck with me to guard from the crisp ocean breeze. My partner for the watch, I soon realized, was the same man who had defended me on the dock.

He was no more a pup than Sparrow was a daisy. He was young, true, but so were most of us. His hair was brown, graying far too prematurely at the temples and running down to his shoulders in true buccaneer fashion. He was not terribly short, but stocky instead, giving the illusion of shortness. All in all, he was impressive if not striking.

And there I was, skinny and hollow-cheeked from weeks of hunger, muck-blonde hair flopping into my eyes. He must have thought me pathetic.

"Hey, you're the bloke Conner toppled on the way in. Don't worry about him too much, he's got more mouth than brains. I'm Pintel, by the way."

I nervously shook the hand he offered. "Ragetti, sir. Pleased to meet you."

He blinked. "Sir?" Then he burst into peals of laughter.

Bewildered, I simply stared at him as he attempted to muffle his guffaws so as not to wake the crew. But if there's one thing you can say for cutthroats, it's that most of them sleep like their victims--the dead.

"Excuse me," I squeaked, "But, what's so funny?"

Pintel finally got his chuckles under control. "Rag', I'm no more a 'sir' than you or anyone else on this ship. Stick to Pintel."

I agreed. We talked quietly for the rest of our watch.

Night after night, this became our ritual. We had different details during the day, so we didn't see much of each other save for the occasional passing smile, but during our watch we talked endlessly. We discussed everything from women to wine, but always ended up coming back to our favorite topic--gold.

"Rag'," he said one night as he sat beside me on the deck, "What are you gonna do when you get your fortune?"

I pondered for a moment before speaking. "I figure... I figure I'm gonna build a big house. A really big house, and I'm gonna sit inside all day and... I dunno. What do rich people do?"

He laughed. "No idea. Guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

Then we had our first raid.

Somehow I ended up locked in a sword fight with one of the guards on the dock, our blades flashing and hissing in the darkness. Nearby Pintel was battling with his fists, wrestling another guard slowly into the pier. Behind him another man loomed up, sword raised, ready to bring it crashing down on my friend's head.

"Pintel, behind you!" I shrieked in warning, and he twirled to fend off the blow. I had become distracted. Pain lanced through me, and the last thing I saw was Pintel barreling into my attacker with an enraged cry.

* * *

I wasn't dead. 

This was startling realization number one of the day. Little did I know that there were to be several more.

The second one came when I discovered that something very, very important was missing. My eye. I screamed.

"Rag'!" shouted a worried voice, and my good eye shot open to reveal Pintel hovering above me, looking concerned. "Rag', it's all right. I bandaged your face up, and you're gonna be okay, 'cept for your eye, but I see you've already noticed that minor detail."

"Minor detail!" I yelped, "My eye's out!"

"So?" Pintel quipped, "Half the crew's been missing legs, arms, tongues or ears since they can remember. Who are you to complain about a lousy eye? 'Sides, you've still got one what works."

This calmed me considerably. He was right, of course. If someone could function without their right arm, surely I could do without my eye. In my head I was already constructing a fake one, approximating circumference and surface area, material and weight. It wouldn't be terrible.

Pintel seated himself next to me. "Thanks." he said softly.

I jumped, torn momentarily away from my debate between oak and pine. "What?"

"For warning me about that bloke behind me, " he muttered. "I'd be dead now if it wasn't for you."

"Oh," I blushed slightly, and was instantly ashamed of myself for it. "It was nothing. You're my friend, after all."

We sat in silence for a moment, and I finally decided on pine.

"Ragetti?"

I turned to face him again. "Huh?"

Calloused, dry lips pressed themselves gently against mine. I squeaked, tensing in surprise, but soon began to relax as Pintel's fingers reached the back of my neck.

All too soon it was over and we sat side-by-side, gazing in shock and awe at one-another.

Finally, Pintel managed to make his mouth move independently again. "I... I love you, Rag'. I think so, anyway."

I blinked owlishly, firmly deciding to politely turn him away, but the words I forced out were unexpected. "I love you, too. I think."

Startling realization number three.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it. What's love without history, right? Had to get Rag's innitiation in there somewhere. Hope you enjoyed. Every time you push that review button, Ragetti gets a hug.  



End file.
